


Babe I'm (Not) Gonna Leave You

by SamValentine



Category: That '70s Show
Genre: Angst, Eric and Donna aren't in a relationship here they're just good friends, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:41:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamValentine/pseuds/SamValentine
Summary: Hyde breathed in and when he breathed out, it felt like he was releasing a breath that he’d been holding in ever since Red and Kitty came to pick him up from Edna’s place. When he got here, he’d taken a shower in the Formans’ nice bathroom, towelled off with one of their nice towels, before sitting down to one of their nice dinners. It’d been a while since he’d been this clean and this well-fed.Hyde moves in. Directly post S01.E24.
Relationships: Eric Forman/Steven Hyde
Comments: 10
Kudos: 155





	Babe I'm (Not) Gonna Leave You

“You’re lucky I don’t kick your ass,” Hyde snarled in Forman’s general direction. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Forman smiling his stupid smile. His gaze shifted to Forman’s saucer, mirroring his own with two cookies on it. He hesitated for a second, then swallowed his pride and asked Forman for them.

Forman – his smile growing even wider – said nothing but tipped his cookies onto Hyde’s saucer.

They finished their cocoa in silence. After he put his empty cup and saucer on the coffee table, Hyde turned towards Forman. He inhaled, and was about to say the two words he had been turning over in his head the last few hours – _thank you_ – when Forman pointed to him and said, “you got something on your lip.”

Hyde brushed his thumb against his lip, looked at it, and sucked off the cocoa. “Look, Forman,” he started when he found his voice again.

“Eric!” Red yelled from upstairs.

Slightly less loudly came Kitty’s voice: “Leave him, Red, they’re drinking their cocoa.”

“There you go putting golden spoons in their mouths...” Red’s voice trailed off.

“I uh,” Forman said, jerking a thumbs-up over his shoulder in the direction of the staircase, “maybe should go see what that was about.”

“Sure,” Hyde said.

With a lopsided smile, Forman picked up their dirty cups and climbed the stairs.

Hyde breathed in and when he breathed out, it felt like he was releasing a breath that he’d been holding in ever since Red and Kitty came to pick him up from Edna’s place. When he got here, he’d taken a shower in the Formans’ nice bathroom, towelled off with one of their nice towels, before sitting down to one of their nice dinners. It’d been a while since he’d been this clean and this well-fed.

He stood up, trying to shake his thoughts. He thumbed through Forman’s record collection, ranging from abysmal to acceptable, and considered putting one on, but he wasn’t feeling any of them. He switched on the TV, sat down, but got back up again and switched it off. He paced the room, seeing nothing.

Eventually he noticed he was shivering and he nosed around until he found a blanket. He switched off the light, put his sunglasses on the table, lay down on the couch, and spread the blanket out over himself. He put his arms underneath his head and stared up, starting to see the ceiling in more and more detail as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

After a while Hyde heard the door at the top of the stairs open, and a beam of light fell in, and someone skipped down the first few steps quickly before slowing. He saw someone, whose shape and outline he recognised as Forman’s, crouch halfway down the stairs, peeking through the banister.

“Hyde?” Forman whispered.

“Mmyeah,” he said back at a normal volume.

Forman walked down and flicked on the light. “Come on man,” he said, as Hyde squinted against the brightness, “you’re not sleeping here.” He ambled over towards the couch and put his hands on its backrest, leaning over Hyde. “We’ll share my room.”

Hyde shot up, and a cold wave of fear rushed down his body. He suppressed a shiver underneath the blanket. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he said eventually.

Forman laughed – a clear sign of his cluelessness – and made a vague gesture with both of his hands. When Hyde said nothing, Forman jumped onto the couch and let himself fall down next to Hyde, his arm coming to rest behind Hyde’s back. “Why the hell not?” he asked, looking at Hyde.

There were a thousand reasons why that would be a bad idea. Where should he start? In his head, he tried to formulate a dozen sentences beginning “Because...” but didn’t get any further than that. He briefly pushed the tip of his tongue against his upper lip and said, “it’d feel so permanent, y’know?”

“Hyde,” Forman started. He sounded careful.

“I know,” Hyde bit out. She wasn’t coming back. That didn’t mean he was gonna stay at the Formans forever.

Although maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Forman put his hand on Hyde’s shoulder and pulled slightly.

Hyde didn’t budge.

“Come on, man,” Forman said quietly. His brow was furrowed below the soft hair framing his face, and his mouth was set in that slight curve, with the corners of the mouth pulled down, that Hyde recognised as determination.

Hyde let himself be rigidly pulled into Forman’s arms, and for a moment he sat there like a stone. Nothing bad happened. He just heard Forman breathing softly, and felt his chest expanding against his own, his chin on Hyde’s shoulder, his cheek against Hyde’s ear.

He brought up his arms around Forman’s chest and pressed his nose against Forman’s shoulder.

Forman smelled nice, like fresh laundry.

Homely.

After a few more seconds, they both moved back slightly, arms still loosely around each other. Hyde’s eyes flickered from Forman’s eyes to his mouth, which was set now in a slightly more relaxed version of the determined curve, and back to his eyes. He caught Forman looking at his own mouth. Before he could give Forman – or himself – the chance to pussy out he pressed his lips against Forman’s, which were warm and soft and which opened slightly on Hyde’s lower lip.

He pulled away a little bit, for breath—but then completely backed to the armrest of the couch when he registered the sound of footsteps on the staircase. He whipped his head around to see Kitty halfway down the stairs, and she bent down just where Forman had squatted.

“Steven, honey, I made a bed for you in Eric’s room. It’s just a cot we had in storage but I hope that’s okay.”

Hyde swallowed with a dry throat. “Thank you, Mrs Forman,” he managed to say.

No one moved.

“Well come on then, come up and see if you like it,” Kitty said.

With barely a glance at Forman, Hyde stood up, throwing the blanket on the couch, and followed her up two flights of stairs. He heard Forman follow slowly.

“Now isn’t that nice,” Kitty said, as Hyde preceded Forman into his room. “You two boys together. You’ll be able to chat until deep in the night. Or whatever it is you boys do during sleepovers.” She laughed loudly, briefly; wrung her hands together, left.

Looking at the snug room, with the cot just about right next to Eric’s bed, it was as if there were a vise around Hyde’s throat.

“I’ll... I’ll just go brush my teeth,” Forman said quietly.

As soon as Hyde heard him close the door behind him, he pulled the cot to the corner of the room the furthest away from Forman’s bed. He sat down on it, fists on his knees, jiggling his leg up and down.

When Forman returned, he shot up, brushing his hands across the seat of his pants, then he crossed his arms. He saw Forman look him up and down.

Forman closed the bedroom door softly and turned back around. He took a few steps towards Hyde, and started, “look, I, you....” His nostrils flared and his big eyes were looking everywhere but at Hyde. “Look man, can we talk about this?”

“What’s there to say?” Hyde blurted out. “I screwed up.” He let the words hang between them for a moment. “I’ll sleep in the basement tonight and I’ll find a place to stay tomorrow.”

“What? No,” Forman said, approaching Hyde until they were just a few feet apart. “You...” He quirked his mouth. “You didn’t screw anything up.”

Hyde’s brows knitted together. He wished he was wearing his sunglasses – now he didn’t know where to look. “What are you saying, Forman?” He saw Forman breathing hard. He’d seen him like this countless times before; when Laurie had backed him into a corner, or Red was about to sniff out some bullshit – when Forman realized there was going to be no easy way out.

Forman reached out for him, but Hyde leaned back slightly, and pushed his folded arms against himself uncomfortably tightly.

“I’m saying,” Forman said eventually, looking at the floor, “that I like you, Hyde.”

He failed to suppress a scoff. “Sure. Is that what you told Buddy when he kissed you?”

Forman raised his head, eyes wide and with his lips slightly parted. But he wasn’t playing. “No,” he said, seriously. He blinked hard and asked, “look, Hyde, why’d you kiss me?”

Hyde raised his shoulders, unfolded his arms and raised his hands in a throwaway gesture. He was about to come up with a lie, anything that’d get him off the hook, but then he made direct eye contact with Forman.

Hyde floundered.

“It’s just, that,” he said, after a long moment of silence, “I’ve never done it like this before,” he finished quietly, addressing the floor between Forman’s shoes.

“What, like, with a guy?” Forman asked.

“No. Yes. It doesn’t matter,” Hyde said. Now it was his turn to breathe hard.

“Then, what?”

“With someone I care about.” He glanced up at Forman, and that was a mistake. Forman stepped closer and put his hand on Hyde’s upper arm.

“Listen, Hyde,” Forman said, his hand burning through Hyde’s shirt. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The vise clamped down hard and he couldn’t breathe. He pulled his arm out of Forman’s grip and brushed past him, out of the room, down the stairs, and through the living room into the kitchen. His feet almost automatically brought him towards the basement, but he realized Red might have some beer in his private fridge in the garage.

He slipped through the sliding door into the cool night air and entered the garage, found a can in the fridge, and walked back to the small front porch. There he sank down and cracked open the beer. He took a few big gulps and stared at the concrete. Then he finished the can, and the moment he crushed it in his fist the tears began to flow.

 _I’m not going anywhere_.

He felt the aluminum starting to cut into his fingers but he couldn’t let go as his entire body tensed and he was gasping for breath.

He heard the sliding doors open, and, after having desperately gulped for some air, he said, “go away, Forman.”

No answer came. After a second he turned around, ready to say it again – but louder, angrier. Standing in the door opening, however, was Kitty, her hands squeezed tight around the hem of her blouse. When she saw his face, her eyebrows drew together and she said, “oh, Steven. Honey.”

Kitty sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

He didn’t have any strength left to resist her motherly arms, and for the second time that night he let himself be pulled into an embrace. With his face in the crook of her shoulder, he sobbed his heart out, exhausted.

After he didn’t know how long he surfaced for breath and found Kitty rubbing his arm. He sniffed and brushed the back of his hand against his eyes.

“Get some sleep, honey. We’ll figure things out tomorrow, OK?”

He returned to the bedroom in darkness, with absolute silence emanating from Forman’s bed. Hyde sank down on the camping bed and managed to kick off his shoes and wrap the blanket around himself before closing his burning eyes and being consumed by sleep.

000

Eric’s bed was already empty when Hyde woke up the next morning, which felt like emerging from a bad high – mortified about the things he’d said and done, about the things that had happened. Oh, what a day it'd been. Eyes wide open, he stared at the ceiling.

000

When Hyde’s growling stomach finally forced him downstairs, he saw Forman sweeping the driveway while Red was talking to him. Hyde was about to grab a glass of juice – what a luxury – and maybe some cereal when Kitty made him sit down and eat eggs, bacon, waffles, which it took him a second to gather was regular Sunday breakfast fare here. “How’d you sleep?” Kitty asked.

He found it difficult to gauge whether what he heard in her voice was just the attempt to make normal conversation, or concern, so he neutrally said, “fine, thanks.”

Red came in, followed by Forman. “Next up help me look at the Toyota,” Red said.

“Aw, dad, come on,” Forman protested. “I just spent an hour sweeping.”

“I’ll do it,” Hyde said. He guessed and looked over his left shoulder – unlucky. He briefly met Forman’s eyes before looking over his other shoulder and finding Red smiling down at him.

Red clapped him on the shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, son.” He turned and left the way he came.

“I’m going out,” Forman announced, and walked towards the swing door.

“Where to?” Kitty asked. “Didn’t you have that history test tomorrow?” When she looked up from the counter she had been wiping, Eric had already walked out.

Kitty turned toward Hyde, her indignance clear in her face. “Well,” she said. “I don’t know what it is with that boy.”

Hyde broke their eye contact and focused on his food again, wolfing it down. He handed Kitty his empty plate when he was done and said, “thanks, Mrs. Forman. I better should go and see if I can help Red.”

Kitty smiled at him.

Red kept him busy most of the day. Forman only came home when it was dinnertime, looking haggard. Hyde wondered what he would say if his parents’d crack down on him and would ask him where he’d been, but Laurie had joined and was nagging Eric in general, who then dropped the bomb that Laurie was flunking out of college, which drew Red and Kitty’s attention to their daughter. As dinner exploded and the parents remained in the kitchen to roast Laurie, Forman left for the basement. Feeling like he didn’t have anywhere else to go – the less time spent in Forman’s bedroom, the safer – Hyde followed him.

His knees almost buckled from relief when he saw Kelso, Donna and Fez sitting there. Kelso was complaining about Jackie, which provided a few minutes of distraction. Hyde sat down on his usual chair and put his feet up on the table.

“Now that we’ve established Kelso’s an idiot,” Fez concluded, and smiled his somehow disarming smile, “shall we go see a movie? _Smokey and the Bandit_ is showing.”

“Wait, that came out this week?” Forman said, his hands in his hair. “I can’t believe I forgot about that!” He didn’t look at Hyde, and that felt as much as a statement as if he would have.

“Yes, come on, let’s _go_ ,” Kelso said, jumping to his feet and zipping up his puffer vest. Forman also got up and plucked his jacket from a hook.

Fez turned towards Donna and Hyde. “Are you not coming to look at a needy Sally Field?” he asked, raising his eyebrows twice.

Donna laughed. “It sounds very appealing when you put it like that, but, no thanks. I’m kinda tired.”

“Hyde?” Kelso asked, already half out of the door.

“Nah. History test tomorrow,” he heard himself say. He leaned back so his chair balanced on two legs. He looked up at Kelso but accidentally crossed gazes with Forman, who was standing behind Kelso. Forman’s mouth pulled into half a snarl, and looking up at the ceiling he shook his head slightly before leaving the basement.

Kelso nickered out a laugh. “Good one, man.”

Fez tilted his head. “You know, Kelso, I think Hyde might be serious.” He picked his jacket up by the collar and slung it across his shoulder. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Kelso and Fez left, and Donna turned to Hyde. “History test, huh?” she said eventually, smiling.

“Get bent,” Hyde said. He let the chair fall back on all its legs, and leaned forward to snatch his glasses from the table, which he’d let lie there last night, and put them on. He stood up and dug two popsicles out of the freezer, and tossed one to Donna.

He sat back down, and Donna leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “Aw, Hyde.” She patted his leg. “You’re eating your feelings. You’re such a chick.”

“Shut up,” he said, with a mouth full of ice. He saw Donna searching his face but he averted his eyes, looking at the wall straight ahead, trusting in his obscuring glasses.

No luck.

“So, what’s up?”

“My mom abandoned me,” he said. “I’m allowed to have a popsicle.”

Donna studied him for a moment, but apparently understood now that he didn’t seriously want to talk about it, as she didn’t ask another question but instead smirked and said, “aw, I always knew there was a little boy under that tough exterior.”

“Donna, you’ve known me since we were kids. You know there’s nothing to me _but_ my tough exterior.”

“Do you remember when you wrote slurs on the board in second grade?”

Hyde grinned broadly despite himself. “I think I only got away with that because the teacher didn’t think I could spell them correctly.”

Donna laughed. “Yeah. You weren’t so tough though when you cried when Timmy made you eat sand because otherwise he’d rat you out.” Donna sat back, crossing her legs, and sucking her popsicle, looking content like a big cat catching a mouse.

Hyde attempted a neutral expression but couldn’t help his nostrils from flaring slightly. “You promised you’d never mention that again.”

“Hey, at least I’m not bringing up in front of everyone. But it’s good to know that I have something on you.”

“Hmmm. Oh hey,” Hyde started. “How about that time in fifth grade when—”

“Mmno,” Donna said.

“You totally—”

“No!”

“And then—”

“Hyde!”

He grinned again. “Don’t think you’re the only one who got dirt on someone. So there we are, Pinciotti. I believe they call this a ‘stand-off.’”

She narrowed her eyes. “Fine.”

They finished their popsicles in silence. Donna raised her eyes from the wooden stick, stained pink, and looked at Hyde. “So, do you wanna study together?”

Hyde raised his eyebrows and blinked. He had already opened his mouth to scoff, when he caught himself, and said, “sure.”

Donna’s tossed the stick on the table, and sank down on her knees in front of Hyde’s chair, eyes wide. She put her palm on his forehead.

He slapped her hand away. “Funny, funny. Come on, man, show me what that book looks like on the inside.”

000

They studied for an hour or so, then Donna called it a day. The house was quiet. Laurie wasn’t there, and Kitty and Red were nowhere to be found, and—well, Hyde didn’t really want to think about where they could be. Eric and him had been sent away before dinner had properly started so he made himself a peanut butter sandwich, and then just went to bed.

The rest of the week followed a similar pattern. Forman was away a lot – at the Hub a few times, Hyde gathered from Fez or Kelso or Donna – but there were times he was unaccounted for, and no-one seemed to know where he went. When Forman was home, Red always had half a foot up his son’s ass, not in the very least because Hyde, in contrast, made himself as useful as possible around the house. Now that the time he spent with Forman had been reduced to zero, excluding time they spent in the basement with others, he realized how much more time he had on his hands. So, fixing the pipes, changing tyres, mowing the lawn, and sweeping the driveway kept him busy.

When Forman went to bed, Hyde always went half an hour or an hour later, and vice versa. They saw each other at breakfast and dinner, but very little otherwise. He wasn’t sure whether Red and Kitty knew what to make of their son’s silence and general foul mood any more than he did himself.

000

Friday noon, Hyde accidentally stood behind Forman in line for lunch, but Forman hadn’t seen him yet. One of the kids in front of Forman looked around and said, “Who’s the new lunch lady? Where’s Gross Edna?”

“Hey, don’t call her that.”

“Why do you care, Forman?” With a glance, the boy who’d spoken took up his tray and walked away.

Forman turned around and his tray collided with Hyde’s, jostling Eric’s plate. Forman’s eyes shot up to Hyde’s briefly but then looked away.

“Yeah, why _do_ you care, Forman?” Hyde said. He turned around and dumped his empty tray on a table. Then he left the cafeteria.

000

Forman was late for dinner that evening. So late, that Hyde was already helping Kitty with the dishes. That was something he hadn’t exactly imagined himself doing at any given Friday night: up to his armpits in the soapy water, radio on, pissing rain outside. But he felt a bit bad for Kitty. Red had been taking his bad mood out on her – a bad mood that was (absent) Forman’s fault – and the dinner had been really nice.

When Forman shuffled in through the sliding door, soaked, Red stood up and blocked his path. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he said.

Kitty elbowed Hyde, pulled a face, and jerked her head towards the basement door. Hyde got the hint – the universal distress signal – and hightailed it out of the kitchen.

000

“Because I care about you.” Forman’s voice broke the silence of his bedroom that night, which had up to now been a no-conflict zone, by unspoken agreement.

“What?” Hyde said eventually.

“You asked me. This afternoon. Why I cared, about your mother.”

“I don’t know if you ever heard of _rhetorical questions_ , For—”

“And there’s my answer. Yep. That’s it.”

Hyde raised his head. Even though it was dark, some street light from outside fell through the curtains, and he could see that Forman had folded his arms above his sheets. “If you cared about me you wouldn’t have defended her,” Hyde said.

“I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Hyde let his head fall back on his pillow.

Forman huffed out a laugh. “I can’t win, can I?”

“What?” Hyde asked, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“I try not to bother you for a week; nothing—”

“Oh yes, of course. It’s all about you.”

“—I try to defend you; nothing.”

“How about I don’t _need_ defending, Forman.”

Forman sat up. “I don’t know how else to make it clear to you!”

“Make _what_ clear?”

“That I’m not gonna leave you!”

Hyde’s heart started pounding hard against his ribcage. He threw the covers off himself, sat up, and put his feet on the ground.

“Don’t go,” Eric said.

Hyde tried to swallow.

Eric got out of bed and sat down next to Hyde on the cot. “Say something.”

“I don’t _do_... whatever this is,” Hyde said, gesturing between himself and Eric. He felt his cheeks heating up, and was glad for the darkness of the room.

“You could give it a shot.”

“It’s bound to blow up in my face.” He should shut up. He looked down at his hands.

“You don’t know that.”

“It always does.”

He heard Forman breathe in sharply. “You could give _me_ a chance.”

Hyde looked back up at Eric, and that was a mistake. Forman’s brow was furrowed and he was looking at him intently, and Hyde could see that his chest was moving rapidly. His eyes landed on Forman’s hands, which were lying in his lap.

Eric reached for one of Hyde’s hands, and he let it happen.

He let it happen when Eric shifted closer and tilted his head.

He let it happen when Eric pressed his lips against Hyde’s.

And then it was too late, and his eyes fluttered shut as he kissed back. He felt Eric’s hand touch his cheek and rest his fingers on his neck, and felt his blood thrum through his veins against Eric’s fingers. Hyde slightly opened his mouth and Forman deepened the kiss.

He half realized his hands were lying there limply and he brought them up to slide his fingers into Forman’s soft hair.

They broke apart to breathe. Eric carefully cupped his face and pressed a brief closed-mouth kiss on his lips.

Before Forman could do something stupid like try to look him in the eyes, Hyde took Forman’s hand and lay back down, pulling Forman along with him without resistance. He rolled onto his side so Forman would fit next to him on the narrow cot.

Forman reached for the blankets and pulled them on top of the both of them, then pressed his cheek against Hyde’s shoulder.

With the adrenaline leaving him as suddenly as it had flooded his veins, he realized what was happening. He shifted his shoulders and tried to breathe in deeply.

He smelled Forman’s shampoo. Held Forman’s hand. Had Forman’s warm body pressed against his own.

“Dude, your heart,” Forman mumbled, “too loud. Can’t sleep.”

He already sounded half asleep, though. How could Forman be so calm? “Are we, uh... Does this mean we’re cool?”

“We’re not cool.” Forman’s voice rose in pitch and broke on ‘cool.’ He cleared his throat. “I just haven’t slept all week and I’m so—” he was interrupted by a big yawn.

“You couldn’t sleep?” Hyde asked quietly.

Eric didn’t respond for a while. Hyde slightly jostled him with his shoulder. “It was just... hell, you know?” Forman eventually said, in a near-whisper. “After knowing how it felt to kiss you, to have you lie there only six feet away from me knowing you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Oh.”

“So I’m not cool with that. But I am cool with this.” Forman squeezed his hand.

Not knowing what to say, Hyde leant down to kiss him.

He would remember how, when he pulled back, Forman’s warm mouth followed his; how reluctant he was to part.

000

When he woke up, the arm he had used as pillow was still asleep. He slowly moved his fingers, feeling the life creep back into them one by one. His other arm was—

around Forman’s waist.

A Forman who was still asleep, tucked up against him, breathing deeply and regularly. Forman’s fingers were curled around the hem of Hyde’s shirt, and the knuckles of his ring and pinky fingers rested against Hyde’s bare skin. Forman’s other hand lay against Hyde’s chest.

Hyde moved his arm to restore the feeling in it fully, but carefully. He didn’t want to wake Forman.

He lay there for a while, listening to the sounds the house made. Ticking in the pipes, the creaking of the wood. A tap being turned on, somewhere. Eventually, Forman woke up, his eyes opening slowly, then blinking rapidly a few times before he frowned and softly groaned.

Hyde’s eyes narrowed in quiet alarm.

“Couldn’t we have taken _my_ bed instead,” Forman said, stretched, and sighed. “Everything hurts.”

Hyde breathed out in a relieved snort that turned into a sharp inhale when Forman slipped his fingers underneath Hyde’s shirt and let his hand rest on his ribs.

“So, uh, are we okay?” Hyde asked, when he found his voice.

Forman smiled. “Yeah,” he said. After a few seconds of silence, he added, “there is just one thing, though.”

Hyde had never missed his glasses more.

“You snore,” Forman said, face blank. Then the smile was back; it turned into a grin, and Forman pointed at Hyde. “Your face, ma—”

Hyde punched him on the shoulder, then pulled him in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to becauseitwasreal (on AO3) for proofreading & yelling about these two idiots. Go check out becauseitwasreal's fics!
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Thoughts, comments, (constructive) crit? I'd love a note down below.


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